T H E R E D S I R E N
by Mad as a March Hare
Summary: Book 1 of the Ula Trilogy:: Erza Dryer is a lady by day and a pirate by night, fighting for the survival of not only herself, but of her sisters as well. Captain Jellal Fernandes is a Commander in the Royal British Navy, determined to catch the fiery redhead who has been pillaging the Carolina coast and settling an old score. But not all lines are as clear as they seem.Pirate AU
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! What you are about to read is the first chapter of the first book of a trilogy (that has yet to be named) focusing on Erza, Lucy and Levy. You do not have to read these books in any certain order, though it may help, as they can all be stand alone books. This will be a novel length story, and I am currently looking for betas and people to bounce ideas off of. If you are interested, please PM me! Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story and please leave a review in the little box ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or any of its characters. I just like making them into pirates. Arggh.

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><p>~o~O~o~<p>

August 1713, The English Channel off Portsmouth, England

This was Jellal Fernandaz's last chance. If he didn't sail his father's merchant ship and the cargo she held safely into harbor, his future would be tossed to the wind. With his head held high, he marched across the deck of the _Lady Em_ and gazed over the choppy seas of the channel, expecting at any minute to see the lights of Portsmouth pierce the gray shroud of dusk. Another hour and his mission would be a success. It had taken two years before his father had trusted him to captain the most prized vessel in his merchant fleet, the _Lady Em_—named after Jellal's mother, Emily—especially on a journey that had taken him past hostile France and Spain and then far into pirate-infested waters off the African coast.

Fisting his hands on his hips, Jellal puffed out his chest and drew a deep breath of salty air and the scent of musky earth—the smell of home. Returning with a shipload of ivory, gold and pepper from the Gold Coast, Jellal could almost see the beaming approval on his father's sea-weathered face. Jellal would prove himself equal to his older brother Theodore—perfect, obedient Theodore—who never let his father down. Jellal, however, had been labeled naught but capricious and unruly, the son who possessed neither courage for command nor the brains for business. This was almost as far from the truth as it could be, but never the less, that was the title placed on him.

Fog rolled in from the sea, obscuring the sunset into a dull blend of muted colors as it stole the remaining light of what had been a glorious day. Bowing his head Jellal thanked providence for such a safe journey.

"A sail, a sail!" a course voice blared from above.

Plucking the spyglass from his belt, Jellal held it to his eye. "Where away, Mules?"

"Directly off our lee, Captain."

Jellal swerved the glass; the dark outline of ship came into focus, the whites of her sails stark against the encroaching night. Gray smoke spiraled up from her quarterdeck as sailors scrambled across her in frenzy. The British flag flapped a harried plea from her mainmast.

"Hard to larboard," he yelled aft, lowering the glass. "Head straight for her Mr. Nelson"

"Beggin' your pardon, Captain." Cudney gave him a sideways glance. "But didn't your father give explicit orders never to approach an unknown vessel?"

"My father is not the captain of this ship, and I'll thank you to obey my orders without question." Jellal stiffened his lips, tired of having his decisions challenged. True, he had failed on two of his father's prior ventures—one to the West Indies where a hurricane sank his ship, and the other where he ran aground on the shoals of Portugal. Neither had been his fault, but still. Perhaps his father would even promote him to head overseer of his affairs.

With a nod, Cudney turned. "Mr. Blake, Mr. Gibes, prepare to luff, if you please." His bellowing voice echoed over the decks, sending the men up in the shrouds.

"Who is she?" Cudney held out his hand for the glass.

"A merchant ship, perhaps." Jellal handed him the telescope then gripped the railing as the _Lady Em_ veered to larboard, sending a spray of seawater over her decks. "But she's British, and she's in trouble."

The ship lumbered over the aggravated waves. Jellal watched Cudney a he steadied the glass over his eye and his boots on the sodden deck. A low whistle spilled from his mouth as he twisted the glass for a better look.

"Pray tell, Mr. Cudney, what has caught your eye—one of those new ship wheels you've been coveting?"

"Nay, Captain. But something nearly as beautiful—a lady."

Jellal snatched the glass back as the _Lady Em_ climbed a rising swell and then tromped down on the other side. As the vessel's sails snapped in the rising wind, braced his boots on the deck and focused the glass of the merchant ship. A woman clung to the foremast, a panic distorting her features which were indistinct through the haze. She raised a delicate hand to her forehead as if she were going to faint. Long red hair fluttered in the wind behind her. Heat flooded Jellal despite the chill of the channel. Lowering the glass, he tapped it into the palm of his hand, loathing himself for his shameless reaction. Hadn't his weakness for the opposite sex already caused enough pain?

Yet the vessel was clearly in trouble.

"We shall come alongside her." Jellal ordered.

Cudney glared at the ship. "Something's not right. I can feel it in my gut."

"Nonsense. Where's your chivalry?" Said the young captain, ignoring the hairs bristling on the back of his own neck.

Cudney's dark eyes shot back to Jellal. "But your father—"

"Enough!" Jellal snapped. "My father did not intend for me to allow a lady to drown. Besides, pirates would not dare to sail so close to England, especially near a city where so many of His Majesty's ships are anchored." Jellal glanced back at the foundering ship, now only half a knot off their bow. Smoke poured from her waist, curling like a snake into the dark sky. Left to burn, the fire would sink the ship in less than an hour. "Surely you do not suspect a woman of piracy?"

Cudney cocked one brow. "Begging your pardon Captain, but I've see stranger things on these seas."

~o~O~o~

Erza Scarlett Dryer flung her red hair behind her and held a quivering hand to her brow, nausea rising in her throat at her idiotic display. How did women feign such weakness without losing their lunch?

"They have taken the bait, mistress." A sinister chuckle filled the breeze.

"Oh thank heavens." Erza released the mast. Planting a hand on her hip, she gave Gildartz a mischievous grin. "Well what are you waiting for? Ready the men."

"Aye, aye." The bulky first mate winked and then strode across the deck, his bright orange hair gleaming in the light from the lantern hanging on the mainmast.

After checking the pistol that was stuffed in the sash of her gown and the one strapped to her calf, Erza sauntered to the railing to get a better look at her latest victim, a sleek two-masted brigantine. The orange, white and blue of the Dutch flag fluttered from her mizzen. A very nice prize indeed. One that would bring her even closer to winning the privet war she waged for herself and her sisters.

The oncoming ship sat low in the water, its hold no doubt packed with valuable cargo. Erza grinned. With this ship and the one she had plundered earlier, loaded with precious spices and silks, she was well on her way to amassing the fortune that would provide for her independence and that of her sisters. Well, at least the two that were left unfettered by unholy matrimony.

She allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment to her older sister Cana. Last year their father had forced her into a marriage with Lord Bacchus, a vile, perverse man who had oppressed and mistreated her beyond what anyone should have to endure. Erza had feared for her sister's safety and had prayed to God for months to deliver her, but to no avail.

Then, of course, there was the incident with Lucy, their youngest sister.

That was when Erza had stopped praying, had stopped hoping, had stopped believing in a God who claimed to love and care for His children. Hah.

She would rather die than see her two younger sisters chained to abusive men, and the only way to do avoid that fate was to shield them with their own fortune—a fortune she must provide since British law prohibited women from inheriting their father's wealth. Cringing, she stifled the fury bubbling in her stomach. She mustn't think of it now. She had a ship to plunder, and this was as much for Cana as it was for any of them.

The bowsprit of the brigantine bowed in obedience to her as it plunged over the white-capped swells. Gazing into the hazy mist, Erza longed to get a peek at the ninnies who had been so easily duped by her ruse, but she dared not raise the spyglass to her eye.

Putting on her most flirtatious smile, she waved to her prey, beckoning the fools onward, and then she scanned the deck as her crew rushed to their stations. Aboard her ship she was in control; she was the master of her life, her future—here and nowhere else. And oh, how she loved it!

Glidartz's large frame appeared beside her. "The rest of the men be waitin'yer command below the hatches mistress." He smacked his lips together in a hungry sound that Erza had become accustomed to before a battle. Nodding, she scanned her ship. Wilson manned the helm; Grayson and Lambert hovered over the fire, pretending to put it out; and Kane and Mac clambered up the ratlines in pretense of fear. She spotted Morgan pacing the special perch she had nailed to the mast just for him. She whistled, and the red macaw halted, bobbed his head up and down, and squawked, "Man the guns, man the guns!"

Erza smiled. She had purchased the bird from a trader off Morocco and named him after Captain Henry Morgan, the greatest pirate of all time. The feisty parrot had been a fine addition to her crew.

Azlack, her master gunner, came up to her side, wringing his hands in anticipation. "Can I just fire one shot at 'em, Cap'n? The guns grow cold from lack of use." His expression twisted into a pout that reminded her of her sister Lucy. "I won't hurt 'em none; ye have my word."

"I cannot take that chance Azlack. You know the rules." Erza said as the gunner's soot-blackened face fell in disappointment. "No one gets hurt, or we abandon the prize. But I promise that we shall test the guns soon enough"

With a grunt, Azlack trudged away and disappeared below.

Returning her gaze back to her unsuspecting prize, Erza inhaled a breath of crisp air. Smoke burned in her throat and nose, but she stifled a cough as the thrill of her impending victory charged through her, setting every nerve aflame. The merchant ship was nigh upon them, so much so that she could already make out the worried expressions of the crew as they charged to her rescue.

_This is for you Cana, and for you Mother._

Heavy fog blanketed the two ships in a gray that darkened with each passing minute. Erza tugged her shawl tighter against her body, both to ward off the chill and to hide the pistol in her sash. A vision of her mother's pale face formed in the fog before her, blood marring the sheets on the birthing bed where she lay.

_"Take care of your sisters, Erza"_

A gust of wind blasted against Erza's face, where a determined expression marked her features. "I will Mother. I promise."

"Ahoy there!" a booming voice shattered her memories.

Ezra raised her hand in greeting toward the brigantine as it heaved ten yards off their starboard beam. "Ahoy, kind sir. Thank God you have arrived in time!" she yelled back, sending the sailors scurrying across the deck. Soon they were lowered a cockboat, filled it with men, and shoved off.

A twinge of guilt poked at Erza's resolve. These men had come to her with kind intentions. She swallowed hard, trying to drown out her nagging conscious. They were naught but rich merchants, she told herself, and she, A Robin Hood of the seas, taking from the rich to feed the poor. Well, perhaps not the poor, but certainly the needy. Besides, she had exhausted all legal means of acquiring the money she needed and present society offered her no other choice.

The boat thumped against her hull, and she nodded at Kane and Mac, who had jumped down from the shrouds and tossed the rope ladder over the side.

"Permission to come aboard?" The man who appeared to be the captain shouted toward Gildartz as he swung his legs over the bulwarks, but his eyes were on Erza.

_By all means. _Erza shoved a floppy fisherman's hat atop her head, obscuring her features from his view, and smiled sweetly.

~o~O~o~

"Aye, I beg ye, be quick about it afore our ship burns to a cinder." The massive, orange haired man beckoned to Jellal.

Jellal hesitated. He knew he should obey his father's instructions, he knew he shouldn't risk the hoard of goods in his hold, he knew he should pay heed to the foreboding of dread that now sank like an anchor in his stomach, but all he could see was the lady's admiring smile beneath the shadow of her heat, and he led his men over the bulwarks. After directing them to assist in putting out the fire, he marched toward the imposing man and bowed.

"Captain Jellal Fernandaz at your service."

When his gaze drifted to the lady, she slunk into the shadows by the foremast, her features lost in the dim light. Odd. Somehow he had envisioned a much warmer welcome. At the very least, some display of female appreciation.

"Give 'em no quarter! Give 'em no quarter!" a shrill voice shrieked, drawing Jellal's attention behind him to a large red parrot perched on a peg jutting from the mainmast.

A sharp blade of fear stabbed him.

"Captain," one of his crew called from the quarterdeck, "the ship ain't on fire. It's just a barrel with flaming rubbish inside it!"

The anchor that had sunk in Jellal's stomach dropped into his boot with an ominous clunk. He spun back around to the tall man, hoping for some sort of explanation, but all e received was a sinister grin.

Alarm seized Jellal, sucking away his confidence, reason and pride. He couldn't have been this daft. He glanced back to the _Lady Em_ bobbing in the sea behind them. The pride of his father's fleet.

"To battle men!" the woman roared in a commanding voice belying her gender—a voice that ground Jellal's heart to dust.

Dozens of pirates spat from hatches onto the deck. Brandishing weapons they rushed toward his startled crew. One by one, his men dropped their buckets to the wooden planks with hollow thuds and slowly raised their hands. Their anxious gazes shot to Jellal, seeking his command. The pirates chortled as Jellal's fear exploded into a searing rage. They were surrounded.

The woman drew a pistol from her sash, and Jellal could just make out the tilted lift of her ruby lips—damn them! He wiped the sweat from his brow and prayed to God that he would wake up from this nightmare.

"I thank you, Captain, for your chivalrous rescue." The woman pointed her pistol at him and cocked it with a snap.

"But I believe I'll be taking over your ship now."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't get paid for this. Which sucks.

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><p>August 1718, Charles Towne, Carolina<p>

With a lick kick to his gelding's sides, Jellal prodded his horse into a trot as he made his way down Bay Street. To his right, over the wall that surrounded Charles Towne, he Cooper River swept past the city in smooth ripples that once joined by the Ashley River from the west, poured fresh water into the Charles Towne Bay. A muggy breeze eased over him, stealing away the icy chill that had seeped into his bones from a winter spent patrolling the English Channel. Though he had heard tales of the brutal summer heat in the British province of Carolina, he looked forward to the warm sunshine boated about by the settlers. He had never been fond of the continual dome of fog and clouds that draped themselves over England.

He nodded at the women strolling in front of the town's shops and warehouses, shrugging off their admiring gazes, telling himself the women's interest stemmed purely from the Royal Navy uniform he was wearing and nothing more. Thinking along this line turned his thoughts back four years when he had rejoined His Majesty's Navy—and a year before that when that accursed woman pirate had stolen his father's ship, forcing Jellal to return home in humiliation. Five years already, and yet somehow it seemed like only yesterday.

Passing one of the town's many taverns, he grimaced at the swarm of men already visible through the windows and pouring out the door into the streets so early in the evening. Bawdy music followed after the raised voices of men playing billiards and the laughter of women as it oozed over Jellal like the slimy bilge from his ship, reminding him of a time when he would have been right in the heart of the tavern along with the rest of them.

Shaking off the bad memories, he urged his mount forward past a brick church, framed with dogwood and oak trees that rose like a beacon of hope. Jellal mentally scratched his head at the dichotomy of a place where debauchery and supposed holiness coexisted without contention. In fact, more than ten churches graced this tiny port of nearly four thousand citizens, branding it the "Holy City". Even to Jellal, who was not an overly religious man, the title warmed his soul a bit—confused him too—but warmed his should none the less.

Thunder rumbled as he turned his mount onto Hasell Street, where moss-draped trees stood like sentinels dressed in royal robes on each side of the dirt path. Jellal examined the house lining the avenue for the one that matched the description given him by his old friend, Rear Admiral Dryer. Though quite pleased to have unexpectedly run into the admiral at the Powder Magazine the night before, Jellal couldn't halt the pang of trepidation he felt for what the admiral wanted to discuss with him.

Rain drizzled from the darkening sky, and Jellal tugged his dark blue bicorn farther down upon his head just as the only cherry red house on the street came into view. Guiding the horse through the open iron gate and down the gravel path, he lightly drew back the reins at the front entrance and slid from the saddle. A tall and brawny man with wiry, long orange looking hair and skin the color of copper sped around the corner of the house much faster than his bulk seemed to allow and took the reins. When the man's dark eyes met his, a spike of familiarity halted Jellal.

"I'll take care of yer' horse, sir" he snapped his gaze to the ground and shuffled his feet in the mud before turning away.

"Hold up there. Have we met before."

The man let out a nervous chuckle. "No, sir." And kept his eyes leveled at the dirt. "They's awaitin'ye inside, sir," he said, then led the horse around the corner.

A strong breeze blew in from the bay, sending the palmettos dancing in the front yard and immersing Jellal in the spicy incense of moist earth as he took the stairs in one leap and ducked under the porch's covering. Doffing his hat, he slapped the rain from it on his knee and rapped the brass door knocker. It was only after the clang tolled through the humid air that he noticed it was shaped like a three-masted frigate. He smiled.

The thick oak door opened to reveal a middle-aged man of small stature and a rounded belly.

"Mr. Fernandas, I presume?" He pursed his thin lips and stepped back, allowing Jellal entrance. "Please follow me. The admiral is expecting you."

Closing the door, the short man adjusted his silk waistcoat and led the way through a spacious entrance hall. A marble staircase with shiny brass posts rose to a second story. Candlelight and feminine giggles floated down from above and danced around Jellal, sparking his interest and bristling at his nerves.

"May I?" The steward turned and proffered his hand when he reached an open door to his right. Jellal shrugged off his frock and handed it to him, along with his bicorn, and entered the parlor. The admiral sat by the fireplace, intently perusing a document.

"Mr. Fernandas, sir." The steward announced and the admiral stood.

"Commander." The Rear Admiral Dryer dropped the papers onto a table. "Good to see you again." He shook Jellal's hand and directed him to a sofa.

"Thank you for your invitation, Admiral." Seating himself, Jellal scanned the room. Mahogany bookcases and cabinets lined the walls, an oak desk and chair perched beside open French doors that led to a wide porch, and imported rugs warmed the hardwood floor.

The admiral resumed his seat by the brick fireplace, where smoldering embers added unnecessary warmth to the stifling summer heat. Or maybe it was only Jellal's jittering nerves that caused the beads of sweat to form on his forehead. Could this be the promotion that he had been waiting for? Certainty during the past two years as commander, he had more than proven himself capable during skirmishes with the Spanish and the French. He had heard that promotions came more quickly in the colonies because of a shortage of good officers. It was one of the reasons that he had requested transfer to Carolina.

Wiping the moisture from the back of his neck, he smiled at the admiral, noticing the man wore his gold-trimmed blue coat even when at home. Although the British Navy required no uniform, Jellal took pride in wearing his as well.

An uncomfortable silence permeated the room. "What brings you to Charles Towne, sir?" Jellal began. "I must admit my shock when I came across you in town."

The admiral stared out the window, suddenly looking older than his fifty years. "I fear I needed a change of scenery. Portsmouth holds far too many memories for me."

Jellal swallowed, chiding himself for bringing up the subject and only now remembering that the admiral's wife had died some years ago.

"You have my deepest condolences, sir."

The admiral shifted in his seat. "It was a long time ago," he huffed, the sorrow on his face tightening into firm lines. "But I thought it would be wise for the girls and me to start afresh. And what better place than the American colonies?"

"The girls, sir?"

The admiral sighed. "I have been _blessed_ with four daughters. Would you believe it? Three travelled to Charles Towne with me. The fourth remains in Portsmouth with her husband."

Jellal smiled, finding it difficult indeed to fathom the admiral as a father. He was a gruff old man whose booming voice and piercing gaze, though unmatched with his size, frightened the most stalwart of sailors. He couldn't imagine their effect on a genteel woman.

The admiral stuffed a pipe into his mouth and took a puff, folding his hands over his stomach and examining Jellal as if he were a cadet taking his first lieutenant's exam. "I'm a direct man, , so I'll get right to the point of your visit." The pipe wobbled in his mouth as he spoke. "In your time serving under my command, I have found you to be an honorable, trustworthy man.

"Thank you, sir." Anticipation rang within Jellal. He moved to the edge of his seat."

"I have rarely encountered a man so naturally skilled and suited for command in His Majesty's Navy."

Jellal broadened his shoulders. "Due to your excellent tutelage, sir. I was fortunate to learn from one of the best officers in the navy." In fact, Jellal owed his quick rise to commander to Admiral Dryer's hearty recommendation. He clamped his sweaty hands together, his heart skipping a beat.

"Yes, yes." The admiral waved a hand in the air. He scratched his gray hair and flashed his auburn eyes to Jellal—that imperious gave that could wither the staunchest of hearts. "But I'm afraid that I did not bring you here to recount you success in the Navy." The admiral stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace, the tails of his coat flapping on the back of his white breeches.

The muted sound of a bird squawking reached Jellal's ears, and he glanced above him curiously.

"Ah yes, my daughter's infernal parrot." The admiral shook his head, drawing Jellal's attention back to him. "She refused to leave the blasted thing behind. Noisy creature and quite messy, to be sure." He puffed on his pipe. "But back to business. I am afraid I have been called away suddenly."

"Sir?" Jellal feigned ignorance at the admiral's reasons for disclosing his plans. But why else would he mention his sudden departure unless he wanted Jellal to assume command of a higher-rated ship in his absence?

"As you have no doubt heard, the Spanish are causing problems in Italy. They have landed a fleet in Sardinia."

"Yes, I have read the dispatches." Jellal blinked, wishing the man would get to the point.

"I am to report overseas in a month in preparation for the possibility of war."

"Nothing to fear, sir. I'm sure it will not come to that."

"Egad, man, I am not afraid! 'Tis my daughters that concern me." The admiral's eyes flared with the same sternness Jellal had grown accustomed to when he had sailed in the admiral's command. "This barbarous town is no place for young ladies. When I heard that you were stationed here indefinitely, I knew you were the man for the job."

Jellal slowly rose and lengthened his stance, standing a full foot over the older man. Indeed he was the man for the job, but what did that have to do with admiral's daughters? A slight disturbance ruffled his anticipation, like the beginnings of a quarrel in the dark corner of a tavern, but he shrugged it off.

"You can count on me, sir."

"I knew I could." The admiral smiled. "'Tis a big responsibility to force on you so suddenly."

Responsibility? Not to Jellal. Being post captain gave him more power, and more power meant he could protect more people—could play a bigger part in guarding his country, her colonies, and her citizens—and perhaps make amends for past wrongs. "I am up to the task, sir."

"Very well, then. I shall make arrangements to have your things moved as soon as possible. That way my daughters can get used to having you around before I set sail."

Jellal's exuberance sank to his boots. "Your daughters?" his voice squeaked.

"Why yes. There is no better man than you to be guardian in my absence. With the Spanish and the Indian attacks of late, not to mention the savage nature of some of the settlers, they need a naval officer to protect them."

_No promotion?_ Jellal's breath stopped short in his throat. He wiped sweat from his brow. A guardian? Of women? Every encounter he'd ever had with females had ended in disaster.

And had drastically changed the course of his life.

For the worse.

'Twas one of the reasons he had joined the Navy. No women.

Jellal stared at the admiral and knew he could never trust himself to protect a woman again. "Sir, I fear you have the wrong man. I could not possibly—"

"Of course you will not be staying here in the house." The admiral snorted, ignoring him. "That would not be proper, but I'll have Gildarts prepare a bed for you in the guesthouse out back. I have no doubt you will find it quite comfortable. No need to stay on your ship while you are at anchor."

Jellal felt as though he were tumbling headlong into a dark void. "I appreciate your trust in me, Admiral, but 'tis a most untoward request, sir, and I must refuse it."

"I know. You fear your duties will keep you away overmuch?" The admiral slapped him on the back. "Of course your responsibilities in the Royal Navy come first. I only ask that you check on my girls daily and be aware of their comings and goings."

Jellal took a forceful step away from the admiral, trying to formulate his words. How could he deny this man's request—the man who had done so much for him?

The admiral stomped a boot atop the brick hearth and stared into the dying embers, puffing on his pipe. I daresay any man who could successfully command my three daughters and run my home like a tight ship during my absence"—he chuckled, a disbelieving kind of laughter that said that the feat had yet to be accomplished—"now that man would have more than proven his ability to command." He tapped his pipe into a tray on the mantel. "In fact, I might be inclined to promote such a man to post captain." He slowly turned around and gave Jellal a sly look.

Jellal swallowed. So that was the way of it. Admiral Dryer continued to hold Jellal's future solely in his hands. Making post captain was no easy feat. A commander or lieutenant had to have political influence—of which Jellal had none—win some daring battles at sea—hard to do when one's country was not at war—or wait until someone above him died—a rather morbid, if fast, way to be promoted. The only other hope was by the recommendation of an admiral. And it was clear now to Jellal that he would not receive such an honor unless he did as the admiral requested, or waited till someone died, which may take years yet.

But how could he?

Either way, doom cast ominous cloud over his naval career like the endless black fog over London. Nevertheless, if he were to remain a commander forever, the position would be more easily borne without the added tarnish of having caused harm to innocent young ladies. And yet he could not agree, no matter the cost to his career. He opened his mouth to speak when a shuffled sounded at the door.

"Ah, there they are." The admiral smiled.

Jellal swerved about to see three women enter the room: One was an shapely girl with hair the color of the sun pinned up in a bounty of curls; another, this time having obviously inherited her father's small stature, was a petite girl with sky blue hair pulled tight into a bun, a book cradled in her arms. But it was the third woman who drew Jellal's attention and sent his blood racing. She sashayed into the room, flinging her long, brazen red hair behind her and wearing a saucy smirk on her plump lips.

Jellal's heart crashed into his ribs.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I only play in another kid's sandbox here

Also! I am still looking for a patient, charitable soul that would like to beta for me. Until then, ya'll will just have to deal with the errors. So, for the love of my poor, poor readers sanity (that was a guilt trip people) please leave me a message if you would like to be meh beta!

Now, on with the show!

* * *

><p>Erza forced the shock from her face at seeing the man whose ship she had once pirated—the man whose ship she now sailed. Perhaps he did not recognize her. Nearly five years had passed, and it had been foggy and dismal that night. If she were still a praying woman, she would pray for no remembrance of her to form in his mind, for if he ever disclosed her secret, she would face not only her father's wrath but quite possibly the gallows as well. Alarm stiffened every nerve as she slunk deeper into the shadows behind the door.<p>

"Ladies, may I present Mr. Jellal Fernandas, commander of the HMS _Enforcer."_ The admiral approached his daughters, gestured toward Erza, and then frowned. "Erza, how oft must I impress upon you to put up your hair as befitting a proper young lady? And quit cowering against the wall and come hither to meet Mr. Fernandas."

Erza took a tentative step forward keeping her gaze on the floor. Her father huffed.

"Miss. Dryer," he said, and then gestured towards her sisters. "Miss. Lucy and Miss. Levy."

Erza risked a peek at Mr. Fernandas as he bowed toward all three of them. The man opened his mouth as if attempting to say something, yet no word proceeded out of it.

"Does he speak, Father?" Erza asked, electing giggles from her sisters.

Mr. Fernandas turned a wary gaze upon her, his green eyes like ice. A barb of unfamiliar fear scraped down her back. Perhaps he was trying to find a way to break the news to the admiral that his daughter was a pirate.

She looked away as her stomach coiled into a tight knot.

The admiral gave Mr. Fernandas a puzzled look. "He was doing quite nicely before you entered." Said the older man. Mr. Fernandas's harsh expression faded, and he puffed a breath as if a giant ball in his throat had instantly dissolved. His then proceeded to turn the shade of Erza's hair.

"My apologies, ladies. 'Tis a pleasure to meet you."

Lucy rushed to him and raised her hand to be kissed.

"Oh Lucy, must you throw yourself at every man who enters the house?" Levy shook her head and turned to replace her book on one of the bookcases.

Ignoring her sister, Lucy gave Mr. Fernandas an alluring smile and fluttered her lashes as he placed a kiss upon her hand. Her low neckline drew his attention, as it did most men's. Erza winced at her sister's blatant coquetry. Why was she always seeking the wrong sort of attention? Yet the commander surprised Erza when he quickly averted his eyes and turned to address her. No recognition tinged his features, just a curious admiration.

_He does not know me. _

Relief blanketed her tight nerves.

"Father." Lucy's voice sounded strained. "I hope that Mr. Fernandas's presence here does not mean that you'll be leaving us again?" She glanced at Mr. Fernandas. "Meaning no disrespect to you, Mr. Fernandas."

Mr. Fernandas nodded but shifted his stance uncomfortably.

Jutting out his chin, the admiral stared at the bookcase behind Lucy. "I have not received my orders yet, my dear, but you know that my job is upon the sea."

"But Father," Levy, with eyes wide and hands clasped took a step towards him. "We have only just moved here. We hardly know a soul, and the customs are so different than in England."

"'Tis a savage place," Lucy added with a snort. "Too frightening for us to be left all alone." She twirled a lock of hair at her neck, her features scrunched with worry. "And you must introduce us into society, or we shall be terribly bored."

And with that, Erza saw her father's face change from its slightly softened vestige that had been centered on Levy, to one of annoyance at Lucy's words. Yet behind his staunch expression, she detected a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. And she knew. She knew he planned to sail away soon. She knew because she felt the same thrill every time she was about to head out upon the sea. If she and her father were so much alike, then why did he constantly disappoint her?

He straightened his blue coat and put on the indomitable expression of his position. "There are worse things than boredom, Lucy. Besides, you have your sisters to keep you company."

Lucy lowered her gaze. "With Mother…with Mother…" she gulped. "And you always at sea, I feel like I am an orphan."

"Egad, an orphan who lives in luxury! Have you ever heard of such a thing?" The admiral gave an angry laugh, his face reddening; then he glanced at Mr. Fernandas, but the commander had turned aside, pretending to examine a brass figurine on the table.

Levy placed her arm around Lucy's shoulders. " 'Tis alright, Lucy. Clearly Father," a soft bitterness underplayed her words as she glanced at the admiral and then back to Lucy. "Cannot abandon his duty to Britain. We have known this for many years."

Lucy flattened her lips and stared at the floor.

Erza touched her father's arm and met his gaze. "Father, can you not stay a little while longer, just until Lucy feels more at ease?" But she already knew the answer. She had long ago learned to live without her father's presence, as her mother had before her.

The admiral frowned. A hard sheen covered his brown eyes. He opened his mouth to speak what Erza knew would be an angry retort when Edwin's dull voice interrupted them from the doorway. "Sir Vidaldus Taka has arrived, Admiral, and Molly informs me that dinner is served."

"Ah yes. Shall we, then?" The admiral blew out a heavy sigh and gestured toward the foyer. Mr. Fernandas turned and hastened towards the door as if he couldn't wait to escape. Deciding to face her enemy head-on, Erza slid her arm through his as he passed. "Mr. Fernandas, please do forgive us for forcing you to endure our family squabbles."

Although he smiled, the muscles in his arm remained as tight as a full sail under a strong wind.

Lucy tossed her nose in the air at Erza before exiting the parlor in a swish of satin—no doubt she'd intended to grab the commander herself. Levy and the admiral followed shortly behind.

"Sir Vidaldus," the admiral bellowed. "How good of you to come."

At the sight of Sir Vidaldus, a chill seeped through Erza. He straightened his white periwig and allowed his eyes to slink over her before they landed on Mr. Fernandas and narrowed. A smile returned when he faced the admiral and bowed. "My pleasure, as always."

"Sir Vidaldus Taka," the admiral said. "May I present Mr. Jellal Fernandas."

"An honor, sir." The commander bowed.

Sir Vidaldus grunted and gave him a cursory glance.

"Sir Vidaldus is an acquaintance of the family and dines with us often," the admiral explained as Edwin led the party down the hall to the dining room.

White linen and chins glistened in the candlelight on the oblong table that filled the small room. The admiral took his seat at the head, his back to a window overlooking the gardens; rain puddled across the glass, distorting the trees, bushes, stables, and servant's quarters that filled the back gardens.

Once everyone was seated, kitchen maids placed platters of meat, fresh flounder, rice, corn, and biscuits onto the table, in addition to pitchers of wine and water. The savory aroma of beef and creamy butter spiraled over Erza but soured in her churning stomach. She cast a wary eye on the two men responsible for her lack of appetite; Sir Vidaldus, who flapped his coattails behind him as he lowered to his chair, and Mr. Fernandas, who took his seat directly across from her.

"A grand feast." Her father rubbed his hands together before saying grace over the food.

"Sir Vidaldus." Mr. Fernandas passed a plate of mutton to the man who sat beside him. "Your name is familiar to me. Where have I heard it?"

Sir Vidaldus took the plate and served himself a huge pile of meat, thrusting his chin out before him. "My grandfather, George Taka, was one of the original eight proprietors of the realm."

"Indeed?" Mr. Fernandas tucked a strand of wayward hair behind his ear. "Not the same George Taka who was treasurer of the navy?"

"The same." Sir Vidaldus sniffed and directed his pointed nose at Erza. His epicurean smile sent a shudder through her, and she looked away and grabbed the bowl of rice in front of her.

"Not only that" – the admiral poured wine into his goblet—"but Vidaldus grandfather was also vice admiral and comptroller of the navy. A brilliant, powerful man."

Erza watched Sir Vidaldus scrawny shoulders rise with each praise. She used to think him a large man, but sitting next to the commander, he shriveled in stature. Her gaze shifted back to Mr. Fernandas. His broad chest pressed against his blue navy coat. One rebellious strand of blue hair (_So Levy wasn't the only one with such odd coloring_) sprang from his queue, and when his dark green eyes met hers, glimmering in the candlelight, an unusual warmth spread throughout her.

"So you can imagine," Sir Vidaldus said, leaning forward and drawing all attention his way, "how thrilled I was to discover that the admiral had been stationed here in Charles Towne. I arranged to make his aquantience as soon as I could. But I never imagined Admiral Dryer would have such lovely daughters." His brash gaze landed on Erza, and she shifted in her chair, wondering why she had the misfortune of being the center of this man's attentions.

"Then do you share your grandfather's love of the sea?" Mr. Fernandas asked Sir Vidaldus.

Vidaldus poured wine into his glass, chinking the decanter against his goblet so loudly Erza thought it would break. "No, I am afraid my many obligations keep me ashore."

"Indeed?" Erza gave him a crooked smile. "The rumor about town is that you suffer from seasickness."

Lucy giggled.

"Erza!" Her father's gruff voice boomed across the room like a cannon blast. "You know better than to put any credence to the foolhardy prattle of the town's biddies. You will apologize to Sir Vidaldus at once."

Sir Vidaldus sniffed and wiggled his nose. "No need. There are many who are jealous of my power and enjoy nothing more than to spread ugly tales about me." He withdrew a handkerchief from his embroidered satin waistcoat and held it to his nose. "I trust Miss Dryer, you are too clever to fall for such fabrications."

"Forgive my impertinence." She took a bite of beef and eyed him. The ghostly pallor of this face matched the powder in his wig. A dark mole peeked out from behind his ear, reminding Erza of a bat coming out of a cave.

"Erza is far too wise for such nonsense," Lucy added. "She is by far the most intelligent woman I know. Save Levy of course."

"That your sisters surpass you own intelligence is no accomplishment." The admiral chortled, plunging his fork into a mound of corn. "My dear Lucy never proficient in her studies."

Lucy lowered her eyes, and Erza longed to kick her father under the table. Why did he insist on showering Lucy with his constant disapproval? Could he not see how it crushed the poor girl, especially now that their mother was gone?

Levy squeezed Lucy's arm and cast a matronly look around the table. "It is the condition of the heart that matters most."

"Well said, Miss Levy." Mr. Fernandas nodded then raised his gaze to Erza. "Forgive me, but I cannot shake the feeling that we have met somewhere before."

Her heart froze. She gulped and willed the screeching voice within her to calm before she dared utter a word. "I fear you are mistaken, Mr. Fernandas. Unless, perhaps," – she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork, hoping the trembling of her hands was not evident—"you frequented Portsmouth? We may have passed on the streets." She placed the beef into her mouth, but the savory flavor became bitter before it reached her throat.

"Perhaps. But 'tis the strangest thing. Your groomsman seemed quite familiar to me as well." A hint of suspicion tainted his voice.

"Gildarts?" Erza coughed. "He has a common face." She bent over, trying to dislodge the food stuck in her throat. The commander was toying with her, after all. _He knows. He has to know. _Dread stung every nerve as she pounded on her chest, finally loosening the clump of meat. It wasn't that she feared the gallows. She did not fear death in that way.

What she feared most of all was leaving her sisters all alone in the world.

"Are you ill daughter?" The admiral leaned from his seat beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Sir Vidaldus took a sip of wine and gazed at Erza. Something sinister crept behind his grin. " 'Tis probably the climate. Every new settler suffers local infections as they grow accustomed to this humid environment. They call it the seasoning."

"I am quite well, I assure you." Erza glared at Sir Vidaldus. "We have been here over two months and I have yet to fall ill."

"Then you have been fortunate, indeed." Sir Vidaldus commented. "in the past twenty years, Charles Towne has been struck by both smallpox and the Barbados fever. Horrid diseases." He shuddered in disgust. "Hundreds died." He gave them a superior look then. "Only those of strong constitution survived."

Erza snarled. Strong, indeed. Or too weak and despicable for the disease to waste its energy upon.

The admiral cleared his throat. "Hardly appropriate dinner conversation in front of the ladies."

"We have nothing to fear," Levy interjected. "Science and knowledge has come quite a way since then, and with the new settlers coming in, I am sure that the trend can only continue. There is not much that man, or women for that matter, cannot do once they have knowledge."

"That is true, Miss Levy." Sneered Sir Vidaldus, looking down his nose at the short girl. "But you cannot mean that women would ever be in a position of such importance. While I concede that women are clever, I cannot accept that they are intelligent enough to save us all from an incurable disease."

"I wonder sometimes, Sir Vidaldus, what would happen if women were in charge of affairs, rather than men. Perhaps there would be more time spent working on the problems rather than preening day and night."

"Come now, ladies." The admiral shook his head and gestured for more wine, his face flushed with embarrassment. "Erza, you must apologize for such a statement."

Erza flattened her lips and flung her hair behind her.

Levy smiled at her sister, and then directed her attention to Mr. Fernandas. "Are you a learned man, sir?"

"For heaven's sake, Levy, is that all that concerns you?" Lucy sighed, poking at her food.

Mr. Fernandas swallowed and smiled, grabbing his cup. "Yes, I like to think that I am, miss."

Erza watched interest spark in her sisters eyes. "Where did you study, if I may ask?"

He took a sip of water and set down his cup. "I was given a primary education at a privet school, and later attended the University of Oxford."

"Isn't that a mixed college?"

"Yes miss. I believe that both men and women should have a chance to gain knowledge. After all, we would not be here without women, as I think many of us so oft forget."

Sir Vidaldus snorted, sending a spray of wine over his plate. "Surely you are not one of those radicals, Fernandas. Women are made to be at the home and to raise children, not to fill their head with ridiculous notions of equality. Even the bible declares this."

The commander's jaw flexed. "Where pray tell, Sir Vidaldus, does it indicate that in the Word of God? I have yet to read that passage."

"The bible clearly states that women are to be a helpmate and nothing more."

"But what good is a helpmate if they know less than you, and are therefore useless when you are in need of help?" He gave the man a patronizing grin.

Erza snorted, looking over at Levy. The girl was positively beaming. Sir Vidaldus squirmed in his seat and huffed in response.

"Well said, Mr. Fernandas." Levy fingered the top button of her gown, and Erza wondered if she ever suffered from a lack of air due to the stranglehold around her neck.

"You must forgive Levy," the admiral said. "She is overzealous in her thoughts, as her mother was." He dropped his fork onto the plate with a clank.

"I do not believe that you can be overzealous with your aspirations of thought, Admiral." Mr. Fernandas nodded towards Levy.

Erza gave a small grin, and let out a painfully ladylike sigh. "You do not know my sister, Mr. Fernandas."

Lucy frowned then pushed her plate aside and leaned over the table, drawing Sir Vidaldus's gaze to her chest—though obviously not the gaze she intended to draw, as her attention was locked upon the commander. "What brings you to Charles Towne, Mr. Fernandas?"

"After Blackbeard's horrendous blockade of your city this past May, Parliament thought it wise to send some of His Majesty's ships to patrol the area." The commander nodded toward the admiral.

The admiral scowled. "The pirate attack was quite an event, I have heard. The poor citizens of this town held at ransom by a thieving pirate, demanding, of all things, medical supplies. And him holding Samuel Wragg, a member of the council, hostage and threating to kill him. Absurd."

"I couldn't agree more, Admiral." Mr. Fernandas said. "Which is precisely why I have been sent here – to capture every pirate patrolling these waters and ensure that they are hung by the neck until dead."

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note: <strong>I should feel bad for that ending, but I really don't. Oops. Anyway, as many of you may have noticed, I changed the spelling of Jellal's last name as well as Glildarts's. In the opening chapter(s), I had incorrectly spelled them both with z's. I apologize for this and make a pinky promise that it won't happen again. Maybe. Also, you may notice that Markov is acting like an asshat this chapter, and I'm really really sorry about that. I wanted to make him this really nice, happy father, but the story got away from me. Really, it has a plot meaning, I promise! Also, he is still mourning the loss of his wife, so there is that too. Lucy, on the other hand, I can make no excuses for. I wrote her this way on purpose, and it does have a cause, and it DOES have vital plot relevance. I am sorry. I hate it too.

Anyway, please leave a message in the little box! (It's a Labyrinth joke. Sorry.)


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